


Privilege of Rank Pt. 1

by Asasin



Series: Privilege of Rank [1]
Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bondage and Discipline, Denied orgasm, Dominance, Fingerfucking, Fruit Dildo, Handcuffs, Hinted Drugging, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, My first bondage story, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Spanking, cutting off clothes, making amends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:29:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2138757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asasin/pseuds/Asasin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John MacTavish is Simon Riley’s CO and, for some time now, his lover. But that doesn’t give Riley permission to countermand MacTavish’s orders on the field. After he oversteps rank with consequence, John has had enough. This time, however, he decides to deal with Simon in a manner he won’t soon forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Privilege of Rank Pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

> On Archive Warning: I chose the Rape/Non-con as reference to non-con bondage. There's no rape.

“What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Riley slurs. He tries to yank his arm away out of his Captain’s bruising grip, but can muster nothing more than a half-assed attempt. “Let. Me. Fucking. Go.” MacTavish appeals to his demand as soon as the door to his room is open. But instead of letting Simon walk away, he shoves him inside. The Lieutenant stumbles forward, gracelessly loosing his balance and tripping onto his knees. He inhales loudly with a vulgar curse, the forever-lingering scent of John permeating his senses. Normally that scent would set off a chain of fervent passionate reactions onto his body, but now he is completely ignorant to it. Instead of the desire to wrestle his Captain onto the bed and strip them both naked, he wants to wrestle his hands around the man’s neck. He wants to stand up and tell Soap to go fuck himself, maybe demand an answer, and then storm off with a stream of cusses, but instead he finds himself racked with a muscular exhaustion that makes his arms and legs feel like lifting lead.

Soap feels infuriated beyond words. How could Simon have disobeyed him like that? What the fuck was he thinking? Did he not understand the consequence of his actions? Not only did Soap have the weight of a wounded man on his conscious, General Shepard had taken great pains to slowly chewing and spitting out his ass. He had nearly lost his rank because of what Shepard had called “his cowboy officer”. The mission had been a near failure, their victory only a scrap of luck and a desperate scrabble for success. He understood Ghost has difficulties following orders, but the symptoms of such had also been restrained to minor things: the remarks, the occasional hesitation, and the demands of planning rearrangement. Yet, this time Simon had entirely disregarded John’s orders and instilled his own judgment onto the situation. Why did the man have to be such a stubborn bastard? Soap festers and seethes over the moment that broke dangerous waves over the vigilant ease of the mission. He had known true and utter fear that moment he thought Ghost was going to get shot and die. God damnit! Didn’t that fucker know how much he loved him? How much it had scared him to see him so close to death?

John’s eyes rove shamelessly over the Lieutenant’s kneeling form. Tonight he is going to teach Simon a lesson about the privilege and authority of rank.

He kneels behind the man and roughly restraints his hands behind his back. Then, with quick ease, he fastens them in place with a pair of handcuffs from his cargo pocket. He watches Simon flinch at the crisp bite of cold metal on his wrist and then wiggle uncomfortable at the restraint. “Get these fucking things off of me,” he demands, when his efforts are met by no alleviations. “I said get them off, MacTavish!” Soap ignores him and yanks off his balaclava, having always liked watching Ghost’s face change with oh-so-many gestures of glorious emotions that are always otherwise hidden. “Fucker!” Simon growls, as his sunglasses clamor onto the floor. Taking some consideration to the man’s property, John places the glasses on the balaclava and out of the way.

Soap rakes his hand through Riley’s short, coppery colored hair, dragging his fingers down the center of his broad back. Simon arches away from the touch like he always does, but this time, however, the gesture is brusque, a mute rejection. Yet, a slight and uncertain tremble rises as John’s hand continues downward until it pauses between the muscular swell of buttocks. The Captain digs his fingers into this spot, knowing the tender flesh beneath. Riley draws a shuttered breath and tries to crawl forward on his knees, but MacTavish shoves him down onto his face. “You fucker!” Simon yelps at the hard impact.

Soap easily ignores the Lieutenant’s furious volley of threats and cussing. His eyes are feasting on the delicious sight of Riley’s buttocks being thrust up to his mercy. Reaching around Simon’s waist, he negotiates the belt buckle and pulls the belt out of the loops. He sets it aside and pulls out his switchblade. “What the fuck are you dong?” Simon questions incredulously. There is a hint of fear in his voice, but John does not relent to his gentler nature. “Don’t move,” he warns. With the point of blade, he cuts into the pants and carefully slits the material upward so to create a large gnash from the left cargo pocket and past the belt loop. “You wanker!” Simon shouts, struggling again. He jumps as the point of the blade makes a small cut into his flesh. John sets closes the switchblade and sets is aside.  
“I told you not to move,” he growls. Leaning over, he slowly licks the wound above his waist. The shuttering taste of blood explodes on his taste buds. He spits it onto the floor and licks the wound again. “Fuck,” Ghost gasps.

Satisfied, Soap grabs each edge of the pants’ tear and pulls the material down to Riley’s thighs. The Lieutenant’s hindquarters draw tense and hidden beneath only a pair of briefs. John presses his fingers into the tender flesh between the cleft again. He probes at it until he steadily works his one of his fingers inside up to his knuckles. Simon’s entire body jerks, but he doesn’t let up and begins to work in another finger. Once he fits both inside, he wiggles them around and nudges the tender insides. “Fuck off,” Ghost pants. His voice is tight with pain and his body is trembling, but when John reaches around his waist with his free hand, he can trance a semi-hard cock. Thrusting his fingers into his knuckles, he forces a breathy groan from the Lieutenant. He can feel the cloth around his fingers becoming sleek and uses it as enough lubrication to finger-fuck. He plunges inside hard and up to his knuckles, only to pull out quickly. Simon’s muscles are tight around his fingers: he is intruding. But Soap refuses to relent to a slower pace and grinds into the firm hole without leniency until Ghost is panting hard and his muscles are beginning to loosen.

Once satisfied Simon is aching for the sensation of being filled, he removes his fingers. With heat pooling desperately between his thighs, Soap turns his attention to his needs. He frees his cock and begins slowly pumping the hardening member to the sight of Ghost’s wet briefs. He fingers his head’s slit and lubricates his length with the pre-cum oozing out. Simon writhers uncomfortably before him, arse shifting back and forth. With his free hand, John reaches for Riley’s belt. He shifts nearly three feet away and folds the strip of leather on itself. Then, gripping the belt buckle and the other end, he smacks the length across Ghost’s buttocks. The leather slaps loudly, but the force behind it is only enough to make a smart sting. Ghost’s whole body jerks hard in response, nonetheless. “Fuck!” he cries out. Still, gripping his cock, MacTavish smacks the belt twice more, once on each cheek. “Bollocks! You bloody wanker!” Realizing telling Simon to be quiet will not work, John drops the belt and pulls a solid black bandana out of his pocket. He then leans over the Lieutenant’s body. His cock lurches with intense need as it slides against Simon’s thigh, but he ignores it. “You’re acting like a scrubber, you know that?” he growls into Riley’s ear and bites the earlobe for good measure. “You—“ The rest is cut off as John slips the bandana over his mouth and ties it at the back of his head. The series of furious mumbles assure him of nothing pleasant. “Good boy.” He lifts himself off Simon and slaps his left cheek.

Smirking, MacTavish slips his hand up Ghost’s briefs; he slowly journeys to center of his Lieutenant’s arse, enjoying the slight quiver and the teasingly soft skin beneath his fingertips. When he reaches the center of his cleft, he plunges his index finger into the tight channel. Simon inhales sharply and jerks forward, trying to get away from the intrusion. Finally able to feel the sleek, velvety inside of his Lieutenant, MacTavish softly touches the walls of the sinuously pleasuring hole. He bites back a moan of his own as his cock twitches achingly and slips another finger inside. Riley moans into the bandana, rocking his head against the floor. But instead of giving him what he expects, John removes the fingers.

He still needs to teach the Lieutenant a lesson.

The exoticism of this punishment drives kinky excitement in the Captain. He smirks at Ghost’s burning baby blue eyes: they rage with humiliation and frustration. Suddenly the smirk disappears and his shamrock green eyes grow hard. “You’ve disappointed me, Simon,” he says coldly. He watches the other man for a flicker of emotion, but his eyes remain the same. “Why did you disobey me? Is it because you’re such a bloody-minded fool?” He pauses as if waiting for the response he knows Simon cannot give him. “I think it’s time someone showed you the authority and right of rank, mate. And I can’t promise it won’t be painless—” There is a flicker of uneasiness in the Lieutenant’s eyes, “—but I can promise you won’t forget it.” MacTavish reaches into one of his cargo pocket. “I brought you something to eat,” he says, showing Simon a sizable cucumber. “I’m sure the cook won’t miss this too much.” Ghost tries to say something and shifts anxiously. “Don’t worry you won’t have to wait long for it.”

MacTavish stands and places the cucumber in front of Riley’s face. “So you can size it up,” he explains. He then walks to his bed’s nightstand and pulls out two condoms and a small bottle of lubrication. Then, in an afterthought, pulls out two more condoms. Returning to his place behind Simon, he grabs the cucumber and opens one of the condom’s wrappers. He tries to fit the rubber sheath over the fruit and tears the thin protection in the process. Ghost snorts loudly, but Soap ignores him and tries again. This time he lubricates the cucumber’s length. The condom slips on much more agreeably.

“Let’s see how you like dildos, mate,” MacTavish says grinning. He presses the tip of the sheathed cucumber against Ghost’s thinly clothed entrance. The man quivers slightly as he tries to maintain himself. “Don’t hold back on my account,” John informs him slyly. Simon glares at him fiercely, but looses his fire when the cucumber probes him deeply. Something akin to a moan is muffled beneath the bandana. MacTavish slides the fruit against him as if it is a cock desperate for entrance. Soon enough, Riley’s back is arching, and he is panting again with the occasional moan escaping him. Putting away the cucumber for a moment, Soap slips his hand into the Lieutenant’s pants and between his thighs. His fingers trance the outline of a tight sac and a stiff member pressing hard against Ghost’s briefs. He follows up the length to the head where pre-cum has soaked into the clothing. “You’re so hard already,” he muses, fingering where the member’s slit would be. Simon’s eyes clench shut, but his twitching cock says everything his eyes would otherwise. Pulling his hand away he, picks up his switchblade. Ghost’s eyes snap open and the baby blue hues are quickly watching the blade with unease.

MacTavish slips his left hand under the briefs and stretches the cloth as far outwards as possible. When it’s as taut as possible, he makes a half-inch long incision with the point of the blade near his hand. He then puts away the blade and removes his hand. Fitting two fingers from both hands into the cut, he tears it wider until he has substantially more room. All the while, Simon is tense and silent. But he shifts when Soap’s finger draws between his buttocks.

John’s eyes linger lustily on the rosebud entrance. His finger drifts over it again, feeling Simon’s body react beneath the touch. His member lurches with a desperate need for some sort of interaction and his right hand slips over its head and down the length. Slipping the tip of his finger inside the tight hole, MacTavish starts pumping himself faster. Soon his finger disappears into the hot flesh. His hand jerks rapidly at the sensation of his finger being swallowed and the hotness that swells around it. Slowly he forces himself to stop. It’s not easy and almost torturous to stop.

Regaining his direction, Soap returns his attention to the task at hand. “Watch,” he orders. He picks up the cucumber and the bottle of lubrication. Squeezing out an excessive amount onto the tip of the fruit, he puts the lube away and pumps the length of the cucumber with the clear liquid like an erection being prepped. Ghost eyes flicker with doubt and his buttocks’ muscles tense. Soap presses the tip of the cucumber through the tense muscle and into his cleft. The tip of the fruit nudges the tender flesh there. With a rough thrust, Soap drives the tip inside. Riley’s body jerks forward, and he yelps loudly into the black cloth at his mouth. “Relax,” his Captain orders as he begins to push more into Simon’s tight channel. The Lieutenant begins to shake his head back in forth. He mumbles something. John pauses for a moment and squeezes more lubrication around the fruit’s length—he doesn’t want to seriously injure Ghost.

MacTavish resumes once the lubrication has been toss back on the floor. His eyes hungrily feast upon the view of the cucumber piercing deeper into the hot channel. The glorious stretch of Simon’s tight slot is enough to make his cock twitch frantically for some sort of relief. He plunges the remainder of the hard fruit into the man’s entrance with a final jerk forward. Riley’s back arches hard and another yelp is issued from his mouth. He allows the man a second to adjust and reaches for his cock. Pumping the member he watches the cucumber softly twitch with the contractions of Simon’s tight rings of muscles. When the fruit starts to be extracted, his hand is quick to push it back inside. After a few moments, he picks up the belt again. He holds like before and smacks it against Riley’s buttocks.

The Lieutenant groans and bucks forward at the pain. “How many should I give you?” John mocks. “You’ve been a very bad boy.” He slaps the belt against the skin again. Again. Twice more. Lightly, he slaps down the man’s cleft, hitting the end the cucumber some of his stretched hole. Once more he cracks the belt, this time over the whole of Simon’s arse. The response is a loud groan. John then pulls the cucumber to its tip and then slowly pushes it back inside. He repeats the action again, this time faster. Simon groans, but his body is still.

Pushing the Lieutenant onto his side, MacTavish drinks in the sight of the front of Simon’s briefs wet with more pre-cum. He glances at the man’s face to see his cheeks are burning with a rosy blush. Now he can tell this is not so much of a punishment with pain anymore. Ghost is hungry with demanding sexual arousal, overwhelmed with carnal desire. MacTavish slips his fingers into the brief’s fly and rips the fabric. He then pulls the aching member out. Looking to Simon, he sees the man’s eyes are glazed with earnest need. Agonizingly slow, the Captain draws his thumb over the slit at the head. Riley trembles noticeably under the touch. John keeps a steadily slow pace, rubbing his thumb over the slit. He smirks when Ghost bucks impatiently into his hand. There is a soft grunt from the Lieutenant, most likely feeling the fill of the cucumber when he tensed his muscles to deliver his cock some sort of pleasure. Leaning over him, John makes sure the fruit is still securely inside. It is. Deciding this deserves some sort of reward, MacTavish spits into his palm and begins pumping Simon’s member. Immediately a loud moan pours out of man’s mouth as if the sexual frustration had been so great it was painful.

Soap pumps the member with a hard grip, pulling up and down the length of the shaft with quick jerks. Simon bucks into his hand intermediately, his face pinched between humiliation, faint pain, and pleasure of the release of pent-up desire. John continues at a steady pace, watching his Lieutenant’s reactions closely. When the man’s back arches hard and he inhales sharply, Soap releases the pulsing cock suddenly. Ghost trembles in frustration at the loss of his oncoming release, trying to get back the contact that had so nearly driven him over the edge to ecstasy. “Not yet,” John says when he earns a frigid glare. He then lifts up Simon’s right leg and kneels over his left, putting the right on his shoulder. “You’re not coming to cum like that.” With his left hand, he grabs the end of the cucumber. Turning it in a circle in his hand, he watches Simon’s throat tighten. “Like this.” He pulls out the fruit and plunges into the Lieutenant’s stretched channel. The man arches his back fast and moans half in protest and half in need. MacTavish continues to drive the makeshift dildo deeper and harder into the stretch of hot muscles until he is pounding the flesh. With each thrust, Simon arches his back and moans loudly.

John starts to bucks his cock into the rough fabric of Ghost’s torn pants pooling at his knees, enjoying the rough material spill over his erection like a calloused palm. He gets into a steady rhythm of thrusting his hips and jerking his wrist. Soon perspiration is dampening his back and the strong oncoming sensation of his release forces him to stop. He doesn’t want to come like this. “Fuck,” he pants. He can see Simon had been close as well. Looking into the man’s baby blue eyes, he cans see the Lieutenant wants him to begin fucking him with the makeshift dildo all over again. He wants Simon to cum like this, but he needs the man to beg for it. He slowly draws the cucumber out entirely. “Do you want it back in?” he asks. “Do you want to get fucked by it?” He looks into the Lieutenant’s eyes intently, waiting for that signal of surrender, that white flag of submission. “You know you want it, mate.” John teases the man’s slit with the tip of the “dildo” putting enough pressure for the tip to stretch the entrance but not slip inside. He can see by the flush on his cheeks and the glister in his eyes, Simon wants it. The low moan filtering through the black bandana says he knows it, too. “Well?” he questions. “If you don’t want it I’ll just leave you here. Finish off myself and then go have a smoke.” As if to assure him he is contemplating the idea, John begins to lift Ghost’s leg off his shoulder.  
“Hmmph!” the Lieutenant suddenly protests. His cheeks are burning deeply crimson.  
“Do you want it back in?” Soap asks again. This time Simon nods. Soap gives him a cheeky, pleased grin. Humiliation is key, and Soap can see it dancing vividly on Ghost’s face. “Come on then, Simon,” he drawls, deeply plunging the cucumber back into the man’s tight slit and holding it for a moment, “Cum like this: getting fucking by a fruit.”

Simon grunts first in pain to the sudden intrusion, then shifts impatiently to the sinuously hot pleasure that pools into his groin. With the cucumber stretching him again, his erection begs agonizing for interaction and release. “You want to fuck yourself then, mate?” MacTavish asks when the Lieutenant’s hips buck forward. He moves out from between Simon’s legs and pulls him back into a nearly fetal position: with his buttocks propped up and his face pressed against the floor. John’s cock lurches at the sight of the man’s ass pierced with the cucumber. “Very cheeky,” he assures Simon, as he grips the protruding end of the “dildo”. Extracting it mostly, he drives it back into Simon’s entrance in a fast motion. He watches the man’s back arch hard and body tremble in feverish need. Extracting the cucumber again, he grabs the short chain of the handcuffs and pulls Ghost onto his knees. The change of position presses the cucumber into Simon once more, and he groans softly.

John holds the protruding end of the fruit in his fist, so that the cucumber’s end is being pressed against the floor at such an angle for maximum penetration and less of a chance of it breaking. “Go on, Simon. Fuck yourself,” he whispers into the man’s neck. He inhales the musk of Ghost when he’s hot and horny and licks the shell of his ear. The Lieutenant begins to lean forward, slowly pulling the cucumber out of himself and then leans back. “Just like that, mate,” Soap moans. He leans back and reaches for his needy erection. Stroking the length, he watches Ghost plunge the cucumber in and out again. Soft groans and mewls filter through the bandana as the Lieutenant begins to hasten his pace. Soap bites his lip and forces himself to stroke slow. “Fuck,” he groans, watching and knowing how tight Simon’s channel is. He wants to come inside the man, release his pent-up frustration by pounding that tight slit relentlessly until he fills it with his sweet release. Fuck waiting until Simon makes himself cum with the fruit, he wants to make Simon cum. Just a few more he lets the man rock forward and backward in the reverse cowboy position.

MacTavish lowers Riley back down onto face and discards the cucumber. Prepping himself with a condom and lubrication, he pushes himself inside his Lieutenant steadily. A breathy moan escapes him as the walls of muscle enclose around his erection. Even after the “dildo”, the channel still feels tight. Pulling out to just behind the head of his cock, he slowly submerges again. The heat and clamp of muscles are almost enough to send him over the edge. He pauses for a moment to collect himself. Jerking back and thrusting forward again, he then begins to set a steady rhythm that picks up speed at each thrust. Soon he is pounding inside Simon. Each exertion brings him closer until finally a fierce ecstasy pools into his groin and racks his mind blank with overwhelm. Jolting, he releases his load into Ghost. The sensation of sticky, white ribbons filling his insides is enough to untie the already loose strings of Ghost’s oncoming release. He stains the floor, whimpering in relief and pleasure as the denied orgasm sweeps over his form.

Removing his limp member, Soap kneels silently. His breathes steadies to a slower rhythm, but he can still hear Ghost’s soft panting. “Simon…” He leans over the Lieutenant’s back and unties the bandana. The material is soaked with saliva, and he throws it away. “Do you not trust me?” Regret and hurt are quick to murk Riley’s baby blue eyes.  
“John…” he pants.  
“This morning when we were in the red… When you disobeyed me? I was mad because I was afraid I was going to lose you, Simon.” The Captain inhales a little shakily. “You... you’re… you know I love you right, mate? I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in a long time. And damnit, when I tell you to do something, I know what I mean! I know what I’m doing out there! I can’t look after the rest of the squad, the mission, and you. Please, Simon, for fuck’s sake don’t pull that kind of rubbish.” Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but Riley’s eyes seem to gloss over with the sheen of tears.  
“Un-cuff me.” Soap pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks the handcuffs.

Riley’s arms fall to his side and look of relief washes over his face. He drops onto his side and shifts up into a sitting position, wincing. John, still kneeling, remains silent. Instead of words, however, Ghost gives him action: he plants his knuckles into Soap’s cheek, snapping his face sideways. Then drops himself against his Captain’s shoulder in utter exhaustion. Soap is slightly tense beneath him, but loosens when he realizes nothing else including a fist coming at his face will occur. He rubs at the sharpness in his cheek. Then, gingerly, he wraps an around Simon’s back. Fuck, it felt good to have that body against him like this, knowing he was okay. He cups his hand against Simon’s sweat-dampened side, feeling the rise and fall of breathe still being caught. “Simon…” The Lieutenant clumsily presses a finger against his lips. “Just shut up, John. Shut up.”

Soap waits. He waits until Ghost raises his head and looks him in the eyes. There is a confliction of emotions entwining in the baby blue orbs. “I’m sorry,” Ghost says finally. The words seem flimsy and small in comparison to what he is apologizes for, but they are genuine. “Promise you’ll never do it again, and I’ll forgive you.”  
“I promise.”  
“Do you want to stay here for the night?”  
“I thought I was your prisoner, Captain.” Soap grins so wide, the fresh blow on his cheek hurts.  
“Well, if you put it that way, mate…”

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first bondage story so it's a little shaky. Hopefully still good, though! (Also: I don't think the men of Task 141 would be able to get actual dildos that easily [or actually want to get caught getting one XD] so I had to use the cucumber as a makeshift.)
> 
> Just a little something for humorous imagery on these two love birds: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Look-173932580


End file.
